


Mardi Gras in the Statehouse

by fairycat



Category: Welcome To The Statehouse (Web Series), Welcome To The Table - Ben Brainard (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Cupcakes, Dialogue Heavy, Drunk karaoke, Gen, House Party, I'm relying on Grammarly to proofread, Karaoke, Mardi Gras, Nausea, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairycat/pseuds/fairycat
Summary: What do the states (and the District, and the Government, and International D.C.) get up to on Mardi Gras when they're all forced to live together in one house? (King Cake not included because I forgot about it.)Characters who appear too briefly for me to put them in the Characters tag: Alaska, Vermont, Massachusetts, Illinois, District, Utah's six children, DC/Gov, IDC, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Nevada, New Jersey
Relationships: Florida & Louisiana (Anthropomorphic), Texas & Georgia (Anthropomorphic), Utah (Anthropomorphic)/Ilithiya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Mardi Gras in the Statehouse

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Jaxon is 15, Kayleigh is 13, Kingsley is 10, Kayden is 6, and Jayden and Brayden are 4. Not that it really factors into the story all that much.
> 
> Me? Writing fic of a work that has personified political entities as characters? Of a work in which one guy from Florida plays the vast majority of the characters? Oof, this better not gain a big fandom presence on Tumblr or else things will get very out of hand very fast.

The faint smells of flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and flavorings wafted out of the Statehouse kitchen. At one end of the counter, California was securing a large bowl of batter to a standing mixer. At the other end, Alabama was pouring batter onto a griddle.

Florida walked into the kitchen. “Mm, what smells so good?” he asked.

California ignored him and began mixing the batter.

“Pancakes!” Alabama yelled over the sound of the mixer.

“Cool! Can I have some?” Florida yelled back.

“In a moment! You can have the first few that are done. How’s that?”

Florida chuckled. “Sounds good to me!” He turned and yelled down the hall. “Hey, Loui! You want any pancakes?”

Louisiana hurried down the hall so fast that he practically teleported. “It’s Mardi Gras. Course I want pancakes.”

“It’s what?”

Louisiana gave his friend a pitying look. “Bless your heart, sha. You had too many drinks already? How could you forget about one o’ your favorite parties of the year?”

Florida’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, that! Is it that time of year already? I have no sense of time anymore.”

“No one does,” California said as he turned off the mixer. “And it’s not just a party, Florida. Mardi Gras is French for Fat Tuesday, which is the day before the beginning of the Lenten season in the Christian liturgical calendar—”

Florida groaned as loudly as he could. “I came here for food, Cali, not a lecture.”

“Besides, Cali, I can teach the boy French if need be,” said Louisiana. “It’s not that different from Spanish. What is it?” He stumbled over the pronunciation. “ _Martes . . . grasa_?”

Florida smiled. “Close enough. So the party’s for the official French holiday of fat and grease?”

“The official _Christian_ holiday of fat and grease,” California corrected him. “Shouldn’t you know this, Florida? Didn’t Dad raise you Catholic like the rest of us?”

Florida chuckled as he said, “I don’t remember. I think I fried my brain.”

Over by the griddles, Alabama shook his head and flipped a few finished pancakes onto a plate. “Your pancakes are ready, sug.”

“Are they, though?” Maryland poked his head into the kitchen. “Did you put Old Bay on them?”

The room fell silent.

California removed a tablespoon of batter from his mouth. “Why would you put Old Bay on pancakes?”

Maryland returned the strange look he was receiving. “Because it makes them taste good? Why else would I?”

Florida was already eating his pancakes. “But they already taste good!”

“Why, thank you, sug.” Alabama pointed a wooden spoon to Louisiana. “You want the next ones?”

“Wouldn’t be Mardi Gras without ‘em.” Louisiana’s smile disappeared quickly, though. “Doesn’t quite feel like Mardi Gras when we gotta stay inside. No parades, no influx of tourists, no public indecency.”

“Oh, I can give you some public indecency,” Florida said through a mouthful of pancakes.

“I’ll cover my eyes,” Alabama deadpanned.

“Is it really public indecency if we’re not out in public?” California asked.

“People get bothered either way,” said Florida.

“Hate to agree with you, but you’re right.” California smacked his lips. “Not enough vanilla.”

“What you bakin’ there?” Louisiana asked.

“Cupcakes!” California grinned. “Wait till ya see them, Louisiana. I’m putting purple, green, and gold sprinkles in them.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You want the plate back?” Florida asked Alabama, holding out his empty plate.

“No, Florida! Put that in the sink!”

“Can I make a batch of pancakes with Old Bay in the batter?” asked Maryland.

Alabama threw his head back in frustration. “You know what? Sure. Whatever.”

Florida chuckled. “We got on your nerves quick. Thanks for the help, Mary.”

“Anytime, hon.”

“Hey Loui, I’m gonna go mess with the Government,” said Florida. “You wanna come with?”

“I wanna get my pancakes first, sha.”

“All right. Am I still helping you with drinks tonight?”

“You better!”

* * *

Alabama and Maryland spent most of the day making pancakes for everyone in the house.

“Alaska, won’t you sit with us?” Alabama asked.

Alaska shook his head. “I’m going to eat them in the garage during a video call with Hawaii.”

“Oh, tell her I said hi!” Maryland exclaimed. “Wish I could send pancakes to her. Is she doing well?”

“She’s happy she doesn’t have to be stuck in the same house as everyone else.” Alaska sighed. “I wish I was home in my forests.”

Maryland shook his head. “The sparse trees in the yard just aren’t the same, are they?”

Alaska shrugged and walked out of the kitchen.

“Maryland, did you put Old Bay in these pancakes?” asked Pennsylvania.

“Duh.”

“They taste amazing!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Vermont. “Alabama, you do not know how to prepare pancakes.”

“Excuse me?”

“You put fake syrup on mine.”

“Ooh, bad move there, Alabama,” said Massachusetts.

“It doesn’t make much difference now, does it?” asked Alabama.

Every New England state stopped and stared.

“ _Absolutely [technical glitch] not!_ ” they chorused. Several went on to lecture Alabama of the importance of real, authentic maple syrup. New York, while only sometimes a New England state, shot insults at Alabama anyway.

“Well, it’s based on high fructose corn syrup,” Illinois said through the chaos, “and I have a soft spot for high fructose corn syrup. I’ll take that off your hands, Vermont.” He took the barely-eaten pancakes from Vermont and walked off with them.

“You want some Old Bay pancakes, District?” Maryland asked.

The District of Columbia nodded. “Sure, I’ll try some.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Alabama yelled. “I won’t put any syrup on any o’ y’all’s pancakes anymore! Y’all can pick what type of syrup y’all want!” When no one responded, he added, “Come on, y’all know that’s fair.”

* * *

Utah entered the kitchen with his family. California was cleaning up from baking, frosting, and decorating the cupcakes.

“Oh, it’s a good thing you baked a lot of cupcakes!” Ilithiya exclaimed. “I won’t be able to eat just one, especially since it’ll be the last time for a while!”

“Oh? Why is that?” asked California.

“I’m giving up baked sweets for Lent,” Ilithiya explained.

California nodded. Then, he jumped as he felt a tug on his apron. Little Brayden was at his side.

“Can we have your cupcakes now, please?” he asked.

California gave the child a gentle smile. “Sure. I’ll help you all get napkins, all right?”

“Uh, California?” Utah was peering at the desserts. “What are these shiny sprinkles? Are they edible?”

“Oh, God, no!” California hurried over and started picking them off six of the cupcakes. “Those are gold dragées. They contain actual metal. Decoration only. Don’t worry, I’ll remove them before giving any cupcakes to your kids.”

“I can help you with that,” Ilithiya offered.

“Are you sure they’re not edible?” Florida asked from the corner of the room. “I ate like four cupcakes already and they all had dragées on them.”

California facepalmed. Utah let out a soft “oh no.” Ilithiya hid her reaction as she gave each of her children a cupcake. As she smiled at each kid, she thought about all the things she had to remove from their mouths as they were growing up and tried not to wince at the memory.

“Will they poison him?” asked Utah. “Should we call the hospital?”

“I think he’ll be okay,” said California. “They’ll probably pass right through him.”

“Oh, like Kingsley and the Legos,” Utah said, relieved.

“Don’t remind me, honey,” Ilithiya said with a well-rehearsed smile.

“What?” asked Kingsley, his mouth smeared with purple frosting.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” said Ilithiya.

After each of the children received a cupcake, Utah held one out to Ilithiya. “Sweetheart, you haven’t had one yet.”

“Thank you so much, honey.” Utah’s wife took the cupcake, removed the dragées, and bit into it. “It’s delicious, California!”

California gave a proud smile.

* * *

That evening, everyone in the house depended on the various states’ cooking and the drinks that Louisiana and Florida were mixing.

“We should sing karaoke,” Nevada said. He wasn’t even tipsy, but he liked singing.

The Government whimpered. “Can I escape and crash at your place instead?” he asked his sister, who had shown up after hearing there would be a party.

IDC didn’t look up from her phone. “Uh, probably not.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Depends how much regard I have for you by the end of this night. And if I need a ride home.”

“Are you texting someone?”

IDC smiled. “The U.K.”

“Why?”

“Maintaining the special relationship,” she said with a wink.

“But she’s from Oklahoma!” Oklahoma exclaimed.

“But I’m clearly more of a cowboy!” Texas retorted.

“How dare you! I had cowboys, too!”

“Y’all know she has other songs you can sing, right?” asked Tennessee. “Texas, don’t you like ‘Jesus, Take the Wheel’?”

Texas sat back. “I do like that song.”

“Well then, I’ll queue up that one for you,” said Nevada. He sat with a plate of cornbread and a laptop, the latter of which he was using to find karaoke tracks online.

“Are you gonna sing?” New Jersey asked New York with a knowing grin.

“Wipe that smug grin off your face,” New York shot back. “It’s gonna take a lot to get me to sing.”

And it did. Specifically, it took a lot of drinks. But eventually, New York was singing “Our Lady of the Underground” with New Jersey, Vermont, and Nevada chiming in as the workers’ chorus.

“I love this!” Louisiana called out. Beside him, Florida was doing shots.

“Uhhh, Florida?” California stood in front of the two. “Can I get a daiquiri?”

Florida put down his shot. “What?”

“Don’t you worry, sha, I got it.” Louisiana grabbed the ingredients he needed and leaned over a glass with the focus of a chemist in the lab.

“That’s the thing, Georgia!” Texas was sitting beside the Peach State, pouring his heart out in a way he’d never if he were sober. “I do wanna sing it. An’ I don’t wanna sing it.”

“Why?”

“She’s just the girl from Golden. How could I not sing her song? But there were some right rumblings when she released ‘Follow Your Arrow.’ It wasn’t anywhere near the outrage there was for The Dixie Chicks—”

“Didn’t they rename themselves The Chicks?” Georgia asked.

“I will keep calling them The Dixie Chicks!” Texas slammed his hand down on his thigh. “Anyway, I just feel so . . . torn politically. Over a singer!”

“You’re hardly the first person to feel that way,” said Georgia.

“I don’t have to support those damn liberals,” Texas whimpered. “I’m a red state.”

“I know, I know.” Georgia patted Texas’s shoulder. “Look, every state has red spots and blue spots. Those change over time. It’s okay.”

“Even California?”

“Oh, yes.” Georgia grinned. “That coastal elitist would never admit it, but he definitely has red counties and districts. There’s no way a state can have that many people and that many congressional districts and _not_ have conservatives who vote that way.”

Texas processed this for a minute before saying, “So do I sing it or not?”

Georgia sighed. “Texas, do you like the song? Do you find it fun to sing?”

“. . . Yes.”

“Then sing it! This is just a party! Half the people here are drunk! It’s not a political statement to sing ‘High Horse’ by Kacey Musgraves!”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

* * *

Utah’s children had all gone to their rooms, but Utah and Ilithiya were still at the party, sitting calmly and quietly at one end of a couch. They were listening politely to California singing Will Jay’s “Leading Man.” The Beehive State looked at his wife and smiled. However, he quickly noticed she was looking pale and holding her stomach.

“Sweetheart?” he began. “Are you all right?”

“I think I ate too many cupcakes,” she said faintly. “I’ll be all right. Urf!” She covered her mouth, stood, and ran to the nearest restroom.

“Ilithiya!” Utah stood and ran after her.

“I hear chaos!” Florida ran after the couple.

When Florida looked into the restroom, he found Utah’s wife kneeling on the ground and bent over the toilet. She had pulled her hair back. Utah was crouching behind her, rubbing her back.

“Whoa, are you drunk?” he asked with a laugh.

Utah glared at Florida. “Absolutely not,” he said. “She had too many cupcakes, is all.”

“Oh. That’s not as fun.” Florida turned to leave. “Feel better soon.”

Louisiana was walking down the hall toward Florida. “Where’d you go, sha?”

“Don’t worry about it, Loui,” Florida said. “Utah’s wife ate too many cupcakes and now she might barf.”

Louisiana expressed his sympathies in French.

“I know, it would be way funnier if she had been drunk.”

Louisiana squinted at his friend. “Are you drunk, _ami_?”

Florida giggled. “I’m only tipsy. I could be more drunk.”

“You wanna daiquiri?”

“Obviously!”

“All right, I’ll mix one up for you soon as I can.”

The two walked side by side back to the living room to rejoin the party, no doubt to cause more chaos.


End file.
